Musical Chaos
by TheCartoonusMaximus
Summary: A collection of random Jackson and Holt stories and drabbles as inspired by different songs. All stories are very odd and off-the-wall, and are basically left for the reader to decipher out what it means. (Let me know if you still don't understand it, though, and I'll explain it as best I can.)
1. Introduction

Hello, everybody, and welcome to "Musical Chaos." Each chapter is a different story about Jackson and Holt, and is either based off of or inspired by a song.

Most of the songs you will be able to find on Youtube easily enough if you want to listen to them. But, it's not really necessary, so that's really up to you.

The stories, in general, do not cross over one another and are not based in any of the regular Monster High, and are often almost random drabbles. But, I enjoyed writing them and I enjoy reading them, so maybe you will, too.

Let me know if you don't understand a certain story or anything, and I will try to explain as best I can.


	2. Stop This Monster!

**"Stop This Monster!"**

_It's hiding in the dark / its teeth are razor sharp_

_There's no escape for me / it wants my soul, it wants my heart_

_No one can hear me scream / maybe it's just a dream?_

_Maybe it's inside of me!_

_STOP THIS MONSTER!_

- "Monster," by Skillet

Jackson sat at a table in his mother's basement laboratory. He'd been doing an experiment for school late at night, and something... unexpected... had occurred.

The boy sat perfectly still, staring in bewilderment at the test tubes in front of him. The hot chemicals bubbled and smoked in a peculiar way. Hesitantly, he reached out a gloved hand to brush the smoke away before he inhaled all of it...

… only to find himself face to face with some sort of... monster.

It was enough to make Jackson jump up with a start, but, after he blinked, he realized that the monster was gone. Probably just a figment of his imagination after staying up so late.

Yawning, he headed upstairs, not noticing the strange shadow that followed him up to his room.

As he lay down in bed, though, he became very aware of the unearthly sounds that followed him... as the monster searched for him.

His heart began to beat wildly and he searched for a hiding place.

Jackson jumped into his closet, hoping to hide in there. But, red eyes met his in the darkness, while strong hands grasped for him.

With a shriek, the boy fled, closing the closet door behind him and pushing his desk in front of it, hoping to at least slow the creature down.

He heard pounding and scratching on the walls and door of his closet, and he waited for the door to come flying open. When nothing happened, he sunk back unto his bed, trying to calm his unnerved body down.

Then a figure crawled out from under his bed, throwing him a smirk from blue lips.

Jackson screamed.

Laughing cruelly, the contorted monster chased Jackson around his own bedroom for a few minutes, tormenting the human boy.

Finally moving just fast enough, Jackson opened his bedroom door and escaped, closing the door tightly behind him. He held the knob for another moment, preventing the monster from turning it.

Jackson felt the knob jiggle in his hand as the monster on the other side tried to make it turn. The feeling left a strange tingling sensation in his body that encompassed his skin and worked its way through to the marrow of his bones.

Jackson dodged into the bathroom, having no other options. Carefully, he locked the door behind him and he then began barricading himself in, blocking the door with everything he could find. Wastebasket, laundry hamper, towel rack, plunger... everything.

Just as he was finishing, he backed away from the door... backing up right into the arms of the monster he'd locked outside.

The blue-skinned beast leered at him, clutching him into a death grip. The boy cried out as the creature's strong hands began to claw and tear at him.

Jackson began to kick at the things he had used to block the door, trying to ignore the grip this monster had him in. Pulling his arm from the beast's grasp, he managed to get the door open.

The monster constricted its grip on him. Breathing became difficult, and his vision started getting blurry.

He kicked and struggled, finally escaping the creature's clutches and fleeing out the door. He didn't even bother to close this one behind him, after the failures with the other doors.

Jackson went and hid in a dark corner of the laboratory in the basement, hoping against hope that the monster wouldn't find him there. He tried to soothe his haggard breathing; calm his thumping heart.

Red eyes appeared directly in front of him. The monster made no shadow in the light, and he took no steps to catch up with Jackson; it was always there when he turned around.

Unable to control his fear any longer, Jackson began to tremble, and he became aware of the tears that collected in his eyes as the monster reached for him, pressing a blue hand hard against his chest, as if to make his heart stop beating.

The monster smiled evilly, its teeth showing between its blue lips.

Jackson whimpered quietly, momentarily succumbing to the monster that grabbed at him.

"W-what do you want with me?" Jackson asked, his voice cracking with fear. "Where did you come from, anyway?"

The monster grinned, then reached over to grab the boy's head, forcing him to look down.

Jackson realized very quickly that the monster didn't actually have feet; rather its legs vanished and became a part of his own feet...

… not unlike a shadow.

His eyes grew large and he looked up with horror.

Jackson cried out in pain as the monster's grip constricted again. "Ow! Ow! AHHH! Stop it! STOP HURTING ME!"

Much to his surprise, the monster did stop, a peculiar sneer on its blue face.

Jackson blinked his tears away and looked the monster right in the eye. "You're just my shadow. You're just a little piece of me. You're only in my head, therefor you cannot really do me any harm. I am in control here, not you."

The monster gazed at him in surprise, then slowly removed its hands and backed away, a confused sort of hiss escaping from its lips.

"You're just a piece of me that got out," Jackson realized. Snarling, he reached out and grasped the monster by the throat, pulling it closer to him. "It's time for you to come back to me. It's time to go home, Holt."

The monster stared at him for a moment, then slowly smiled as it gazed fondly at him. "Home...?"

"Yes, Holt," he addressed the creature by name as he held his arms out, wrapping the monster into an intimate hug. "Home."

The monster hummed happily as it collapsed against its master, giving in to the human. It had really just been trying to get back into the body it had been kicked out of the entire time; he had not been trying to hurt the boy.

Jackson understood completely, without any words being spoken between them, and he pressed his lips to the monster's forehead, kissing him. He began to suck on the blue skin, the monster in his arms turning to mist and going into his open mouth.

Jackson swallowed and coughed as his parts realigned themselves, and collapsed on the floor in exhaustion, sleep conquering him.

Jackson shook his head the next morning, trying to clear the confusion. His monstrous soul was back where it belonged: inside him. He wondered how it had gotten out, but he was afraid to ask.

He smiled to himself sardonically; he had his monster side back again, and no one had seen it. He and his monster were safe...… for the moment.

**The End... Maybe.**


	3. Cut My Life into Pieces

"Cut My Life into Pieces"

as inspired by "Last Resort" by Papa Roach

For some reason, suicide seems to come to mind a lot when I think of Jackson and Holt. This story includes self-loathing, self-harm, blood, suicide, death, depression... a whole gambit of bad stuff. So, if you dislike that sort of thing, you'd probably be better off moving on.

* * *

_Cut my life into pieces / I've reached my last resort / Suffocation / No breathing_

_Don't give a #$% if I cut my arm bleeding / Do you even care if I die bleeding?_

_Would it be wrong / Would it be right / If I took my life tonight? / Chances are that I might_

_Mutilation out of sight / And I'm contemplating suicide_

...

Jackson slid the broken razor blade across his wrist, watching with interest as a deep wound appeared and blood began to seep out.

He relaxed for a moment, watching as his own blood came out. It hurt. It hurt so badly… But nothing else in his life felt near as good as this felt.

His life stank, plain and simple. And, actually, the entire flipping world stank. Nothing was right, and nothing worked out. Some days, it seemed as though nothing was worth living for.

And this was one of those days. He would need to cut himself a lot in order to make himself feel better.

Jackson Jekyll sat alone in his bedroom. His door was locked. The curtains were closed. And his monstrous father was out of the house.

He moved to stand before the full length mirror that hung on the inside of his closet door, admiring his work. Large gashes and small cuts both littered his arms and even his chest, blood trickling out of a few of them.

Now his body matched the way he felt, for he was scarred, inside and out.

And it made him smile.

When most people were feeling low, they would divulge themselves in their favorite things, things that made them feel happy. Ice cream, fashion dolls, comics. Silly things, serious things, and even ridiculous things. But not Jackson.

When Jackson was feeling low, and he often felt that way, he cut himself.

He had been told all of his life that self-harm was wrong, that it was a sin. But he reasoned that by sinning he was no worse than anyone else and that it didn't really matter. And the people that told him it was wrong hadn't helped him. His family, his teachers, his therapist… None had helped.

Was it wrong? Perhaps. How could doing harm to your own body not be wrong? But it was the only thing that made him feel better.

So he didn't stop.

His fingers reached out, grasping the handle of a long kitchen knife.

Jackson looked himself over in the mirror once more, frowning. He had no love for his body, himself, or anyone else. How could he when no one had any love for him?

Removing his pants and revealing more scars to the light, he drew the knife slowly and purposefully across his calf, reveling in the deep pain that set in and watching as his blood flowed down, going past his ankle and pooling in the carpet below his foot.

He leaned back with a sigh as temporary relief set in.

It didn't matter how he cut himself, so long as he did. Shards of glass, fragments of metal, razors, kitchen utensils, pocket knives… Even his own fingernail would suffice. He just had to angle it right and push really hard. Blood would cover his hand when he did that, but he didn't mind.

His classmates would wonder why he wore long-sleeved shirts and full pants all the time, even in the summer. They would tease him about it, sometimes bully him.

And of course, those that paid close enough attention and discovered his secret would treat him even worse.

They would bully him. Pity him. Despise him. Be disgusted by him. Patronize him.

This only served to make him hide himself even more from their prying eyes.

He hated their patronizing faces. Hated the way they would judge him because of the scars that poked out along his wrist, the way he would snap rubber bands over his wrist harshly during class.

Like they were better than him. Like he was a worse sinner than they were.

So he kept to himself, and he kept quiet. Spoke politely with his classmates and allowed himself to become their 'sometimes friend,' someone who they called a friend but didn't always treat like one.

It wasn't the most pleasant of lives, but it could have been worse, he supposed.

Even when it didn't feel like it could get any worse.

And why wouldn't anyone simply love and accept him the way he was? The last person to do that was his mother, and she was dead.

His father was horrible. Dr. Jekyll had never gotten over his wife's death, and he'd taken to beating Jackson. Actually, he'd beaten Jackson even when his wife was alive, so he didn't have that pathetic excuse to hide behind.

"Father is only half a man," Jackson muttered to himself, slicing across the front of his ankle and letting the blood spill out to cover his foot. He smiled to himself, becoming immersed in the streams of glistening red liquid that poured from his body. "He's half monster, too... We are alike, in this respect, I suppose..."

Blood. It was a fascinating thing, really. So vital to the human body… and yet so pleasing to watch leave the human body.

How long had he been at this? How much more could he lose before dieing?

Jackson didn't care, having made his switch from self harming to suicidal long ago. He had planned this. Couldn't wait for it.

Had his life always been this bad? It certainly felt like it.

Was his life really so bad, or did he just view it to be?

He didn't bother to think too hard about that. It was irrelevant. It didn't matter.

Where was the line between self harming and suicidal? Was that question really important?

Rolling his eyes, Jackson reached for another knife.

Now he held a knife in each hand, one stained with blood and one clean for the moment.

His mind traveled quickly, thinking of the last few years of his life. Slicing into his skin and watching himself bleed, taking his beatings from his father, visiting his mother's grave and having no words to say.

He had picked up a Bible once, when a classmate who seemed to patronize him less than the others told him that it might help.

He read that book cover to cover, but it didn't help him any. The words don't always make sense when you don't have someone to guide you through everything involved.

Dr. Jekyll was smart, so Jackson had brought the book to his father, hoping to have a few questions answered.

He'd forgotten how much his father had cursed the name of God when his mother died.

Jackson was beaten double that night, and the book had been torn to pieces and thrown into the fire.

The subject was never brought up again.

'Self harm is a sin,' they'd always told him. The same with suicide.

But if it was the only way to achieve peace of mind, Jackson was willing to try it.

His therapist had said that he had some kind of mental illness, but that's not what it felt like. To Jackson, it felt normal to spend hours a week, playing with sharp objects and seeing how deeply he could wound himself.

It felt normal to cover everything he owned with his own blood.

What felt strange was behaving the same way all of the people around him behaved. Smiling was strange, being happy was strange.

But watching while his vital fluids seeped out from his veins and arteries felt normal.

Jackson cut himself again, biting down on a smaller knife to keep from crying out.

The taste of blood filled his mouth, but he didn't care. It didn't matter.

He was bathing himself in his own blood, so drinking it somehow didn't seem too peculiar.

His lips had broken, and he'd cut his tongue. He wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't swallowed a mouthful of the red liquid.

It tasted terrible, but he didn't pay it any attention. He didn't even bother spitting it out.

Twisting his finger against his blood soaked knee, he then lifted the digit to the wall and began to write with it. He wrote all over the walls, covering their white surfaces with as many words as he could think of.

Hate… I hate my life… Everyone hates me… I'm sorry… I won't be a burden anymore… Death… Blood… You won't even notice I'm gone… No one will miss me…  
And so on and so on he wrote, leaving his death letter scrawled all across what used to be his bedroom.

"I can't go on like this," he finished, unable to explain his feelings any further.

Many things passed through his mind. Would anyone at all even notice his absence? Would anyone care? Would anyone miss him?

He shook his head, clearing his mind of those thoughts. They weren't necessary. They changed nothing.

Death was coming for him, and he was almost impatient for its arrival.

He took one last look in the mirror, appraising his face and body. This was how he was going to look when he died. This was how he was going to look at his funeral.

This was how he was going to look when they put him in the ground.

Smiling, he continued to make cuts over his body.

Deep gashes appeared on each wrist and ankle, the blood gushing out from the arteries like small waterfalls. The carpet beneath him was stained red and he knew it would never come clean again. No part of his room would ever come clean. Just like his body and his soul.

The thought made him laugh.

Jackson became aware of the sounds of his good-for-nothing father coming home downstairs. He ignored the noises, knowing full well that his father wouldn't even so much as look in the general direction of his room until Jackson had bled so much that his blood had saturated his bedroom floor, dripping through to the ceiling beneath.

He amused himself momentarily with the mental image of his blood splashing onto his father's head below. Maybe then Dr. Jekyll would take more notice of his son.

"I hope he drowns in my blood," Jackson muttered, chuckling in an insane fashion. The very idea just struck him as funny. He didn't know why, but it did.

He wondered when it was exactly that he'd lost his mind. Or maybe it had only just happened now. Perhaps it was an effect from losing so much blood already. He didn't know.

"Goodbye, world," he whispered.

He raised one of his blood soaked knives to his throat, dug the blade into the skin, and pulled.

* * *

His body was found many hours later when his father broke through his locked door. Dr. Jekyll had hollered at his son and, when he received no answer, assumed that the boy was being a smart alec and wanted a beating.

It took him awhile to even recognize the boy, his features were so obscured by cuts and marks and scars and blood.

Jackson's glasses lay on the blood stained floor nearby, broken and shattered, droplets of blood clinging to what was left of the frames and the glass.

The entire school and neighborhood all turned out for the funeral. Everyone who attended each asked the same question.

"Was it my fault? Am I the cause? Why didn't I do better? How could I have treated him like that? Was it all my fault?!"

Even Dr. Jekyll felt terrible, and he left the funeral halfway through to drown his sorrows in a bottle. When that didn't work, he stopped off at a hardware store and bought a length of rope.

Dr. Jekyll's body was found shortly thereafter, his neck stretched out and twisted oddly. He was hanging from his rope off of a tree in his backyard.

He had a sign, written in his own blood on a piece of cardboard, hanging from around his neck.

It read, "I'm sorry."

Both Jackson and his father were buried near Mrs. Jekyll and given decent headstones. Both read, just as Mrs. Jekyll's, "Died Before Their Time."

Flowers, cards, and decorations of all varieties were piled onto the family's graves as people attempted to make them look festive and happy, as though they were trying to make everyone, even those in the graves, forget about their unhappy ends.

And everyone wondered if they could have done something to prevent such horrible deaths.

Could they have said something? Could they have been less patronizing?

For many years, even after they removed the Jekyll's house and built a new one on the property, many people of the town felt guilt.

Many people moved away, saying that they felt as if they were haunted. They felt that they should have done something, but they didn't, and they would never stop regretting their shallow actions.

Perhaps they could have. Perhaps they should have. And perhaps they would have.

But no one would ever know.

...

The Unfortunate End.


	4. I Need You More Than Ever

**Author's Note: okay, the important thing to note in this story is that, at first, Holt is an entirely separate person from Jackson and he's a human. This whole thing pretty much takes place in Jackson's part of their shared mind, and it's not going to be at all a "normal" story. Big surprise there, I know. But, enjoy.**

* * *

"I Need You More Than Ever"

rated K or T for psychobabble nonsense; 6 pages long; mental issues, family relationship; written from June 28th, 2013 – May 1st, 2014

Featuring the song "Take Me" by Hawk Nelson

Jackson's locked himself away inside his mind for the past several months, and now Holt is going in to pull him out.

_Can you hear me? Does anyone around me… feel the way that I feel now?_  
_'Cause from the window where I sometimes cry I just wanna see your face tonight_  
_And I'm willing to lose everything I am._

* * *

Jackson sighed as he sat down in his seat in the school library. He was supposed to be working on a project with his classmate, Holt Hyde, but so far his partner was missing in action.

With Holt, it was hardly surprising. He was the new boy in school, and so far all Jackson knew about him was that he was a very wild young man who may or may not be insane.

The boy shifted in his seat, trying to gain some comfort in the hard chair. It wasn't that the chair was especially uncomfortable, it was just… something seemed wrong, or maybe not quite right, and he just couldn't bring himself to relax.

Nothing was right; the way his parents treated him, his home, his fellow classmates… nothing was right. At least, it sure felt that way…

"HIYA, JJ!"

He jumped when he heard his name being called, and the outburst was followed by several shushes from the librarian and the other patrons, who were flitting around behind him like shadows.

The outburst had come from the wide-open mouth of none other than Holt Hyde himself, who blatantly ignored the glares that he was being given as he approached his partner.

"So, what are we workin' on, nerd?" Holt may have used the word 'nerd' as if to pick on Jackson, but his voice made it sound more like… somewhere between affectionate and matter-of-fact. As if it were a familiar nickname.

Jackson didn't answer immediately, but rather stared up at the other boy with mixed feelings of annoyance. This is when the idea occurred to him that Holt didn't look good as a blonde; somehow, he thought that Holt might look better with blue skin and red hair… as little sense as that made.

"We're supposed to be researching famous mad scientists, Holt. Ah…" He thought for a moment. Holt wasn't likely to remain quiet for any amount of time, and he really didn't want to be kicked out of the library, so he came up with a Plan B. "I actually have all the books we're going to be needing, so… I could just check them out, and we could go work on it somewhere else."

Holt smiled broadly. "Your place?"

Feeling his eyes widen, Jackson immediately shook his head violently. He didn't want to go home, not if he could help it. He didn't want to have to face that quirky nightmare that was supposed to be where he lived again.

Holt switched tactics with a small shrug. "My place then."

"That sounds… fine."

Surely Holt must have wondered about the strange look that had crossed the nerd's face, but he didn't seem to notice. He happily carried the heavy looking stack of books that the other boy had selected as they headed out the door.

"C'mon, it's only a few blocks to my house," Holt called over his shoulder, listening to the patter of footsteps as the geek tried to keep up with his fast pace.

To Jackson though, it seemed like a very long distance to get to Holt's home. But, when he complained about how far away it seemed, Holt only gave a mysterious look.

"It's only as far away as you want it to be, JJ," the other boy had whispered, his voice strange.

Jackson followed behind the faster boy, trying to ignore the feelings of familiarity that shouldn't have existed. He wasn't sure what he expected when they reached the Hyde residence, but he was surprised to find that it was a normal, quaint little apartment. It looked like the kind of place where he would live.

In fact, it felt like he'd been here before.

He started to offer to open the door, but Holt just kicked it open anyway.

Holt saw the alarmed look on the other's face. "What? That's how I open it! Didn't you know that, Jackie?"

Chuckling, Holt went into the apartment, going straight into his bedroom down the hall and dumping the stack of books off on his bed. He then turned around and walked straight back to the front door, where he found Jackson carefully closing the door behind him.

"The books and stuff are in my room," he told the weaker boy, gesturing with his thumb in the general direction of his sleeping quarters. "I'm gonna go get a snack. You want anything?"

"Uh, no thank you," Jackson mumbled politely. He headed down the hall towards the room that Holt had indicated while the monster headed towards the kitchen.

The room was decorated in skulls and flames, and everything was a bright blood red. It made Jackson's skin crawl at first, but he soon became comfortable with it.

Holt soon came in with a plate full of nachos, which he set on the bedside table as he began rifling through a stack of CD's that were on the floor.

Popping in an album of 'Toxic Crimson Dancer' into his CD player, he pressed play and began to dance around as the loud music filled the air.

Jackson had started to straighten up the books that had been unceremoniously dropped onto the bed, but he was grabbed by Holt, who started dancing around the room with him.

"We're supposed to be doing our homework, Hyde!" He shrieked. "What do you want from me, anyway?!"

Holt grinned at him good-naturedly, tapping the other boy on the nose. "I want you, smarty-pants!"

"Oh, don't tell me that you want to be my friend or any of that garbage!" Jackson actually responded by shaking his head in disbelief. "No one wants me for anything at all. Even my own parents don't really want me."

"Don't you understand, Jackson?" the other boy asked, his voice growing quiet; maybe it was Jackson's imagination, but it seemed like the music become quiet too. "Those aren't your parents."

Silence.

The slow blinking of confused, owlish eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

Holt looked sad as he gazed at the nerd. Tightening his grip on his 'dance partner,' he pulled the other boy into a strong hug. "Jackie, won't you wake up?"

Jackson froze, not having the slightest idea what the other was going on about. All he knew at that moment was that his body wanted to run away from Holt, but his heart didn't want to.

This was the first moment he could remember that felt at all right.

"Jackson, listen to me," the Hyde pleaded, sitting down on the bed and pulling Jackson down with him. "This world, this school you attend, that house you live in, those… those people that you call your parents… None of this is real! Not one bit of it!"

Jackson stood up to run away then, his feet moving on their own, but the stronger Hyde grabbed him and dragged him back, even pinning him to bed and holding him tightly, just to prevent him from running away.

"You're a Jekyll, and I'm a Hyde," the blonde said softly, his golden-brown eyes never wavering. "Don't that mean anything to you? I was born as a part of you. Closer than brothers, closer than any married couple. You and I are one and the same… at least, we are in the real world."

"… What… What are you… I don't understand!"

Holt sighed sadly. "We are not two people Jackson, we are one person. One person with a severe case of Schizophrenia. You are one side of us, and I'm the other. We were just born that way.

"But… we're like brothers, in our own way. And like brothers, we started arguing. People thought it was a bad sign when we were arguing with each other, with ourselves, so they made us go see a psychiatrist."

Holt paused here, gently running his fingers though Jackson's bangs, soothing him. Jackson could feel his heart begin to pound a minute ago, but it was slowing down again under Holt's influence.

"The psychiatrist told us to create a 'happy place' to live in if we got too mad at each other," Holt continued. "He said we should just ignore each other when that happened and 'go to our happy place.' So you made yourself a 'happy place' to hide in, one where I didn't exist. One where you didn't have any of your usual worries. But… then you didn't come out of it.

"Tell me, Jackson… Is this world you live in perfect? Is it everything you've ever wanted?"

Jackson stared up at the blonde dumbly, so very confused. "I… Well, my parents are both very happy with everything I do, and I go to a good school, and I've never been bullied by anyone or gotten into trouble…"

"It's a good life, isn't it, JJ?" the Hyde whispered. "But it isn't right, is it?"

Jackson shook his head, unable to answer in any other way.

Silence for a minute.

Then…

"Look at me."

Jackson did as he was told, gazing up at Holt's face above him.

Sighing, Holt shook his head. "The real me, dork!"

"… I don't understand what you…" Jackson trailed off as the blonde's appearance began to alter before his very eyes. Holt's skin changed color, turning into an electric blue tone; his blonde hair became a fiery red, and his golden-brown eyes turned into bright yellow. A mark appeared on the side of his face, draping over his eye.

Nodding with approval, Holt sat up, allowing Jackson to sit up in front of him.

"I want you back, Jackson," he whispered, his eyes becoming suspiciously shiny. "You're my other half, and… I need you."

Jackson sat still, staring at the monster boy that now sat before him. Memories began to poke and prod at the walls of his mind, but they couldn't get through. He actually began to cry, his youthful mind not knowing of any other way to express his angst and frustration. "I still don't understand!"

Holt gave him a small, gentle smile, his yellow eyes brimming with both tears and love as he reached forward, catching the human in his arms and holding him tightly. "I know. And… it'll be alright."

Sniffling slightly, Jackson pressed his face into Holt's shoulder and neck, mostly right into the crook where both body parts met. Holt's embrace was warm and comfortable, and so very familiar.

"I'm getting your clothes all wet," Jackson whispered apologetically. He made no move to leave the monster's arms, though.

Holt shrugged, pulling the other in closer. "Jackie? Would you let me enter your mind? I could maybe help jog your memories or something."

"I… I don't…"

"Sssh…. Trust me, Jackson. Just trust me."

The Jekyll nodded uncertainly before becoming aware of something that felt like fingers diving into his mind, searching around and rearranging things; it almost felt as though objects were being removed from a shelf, other objects were set upon the shelf, some moved to a different place, and still others were caringly and lovingly cleaned.

It was a strange feeling, although not altogether unpleasant.

Jackson cried out in shock when new memories began to surface. Memories of things that he didn't want to remember. Bullies sprang to mind, as did terrible arguments with his 'other half,' loss of friends, moving to different towns, changing schools…

"… stop…" he whispered weakly. "… please stop…"

Frowning, Holt pulled back a bit. "We need to do this, Jackie. I know it don't feel too great or nothin,' but if you don't let me do this… well…"

He looked as if he might start crying again. "… I might lose you forever."

Jackson automatically reached out with his mind, searching for Holt's consciousness and offering him comfort.

When he touched Holt's mind, all Jackson could feel was darkness. Everything was dark and shadowed, as if there was no light or goodness in the other's heart at all.

"That's 'cause you took it all with you, Jackie," Holt whispered. "Remember? I'm the Hyde and you're the Jekyll. You're the good side and I'm the bad side. That's how we work. It just… is. It don't make sense, but that's the way we were born."

Jackson pulled out of Holt's mind, feeling as though he were intruding. He offered a wry smile. "It's like we're conjoined twins or something."

Holt looked up at him, his yellow eyes filled with some wonder. Then, he smiled, too. "You're starting to catch on, J."

"You ready to try again, Jackson?" Holt asked quietly, raising his hands and placing them lovingly on either side of Jackson's temples.

The normie nodded, realized that he had just called himself a 'normie,' and then closed his eyes. "Let's just get this over with."

"Like pulling off a band-aid, huh?"

"Yup. Now, pull."

Holt nodded and dove in again, forcing memories to the surface of Jackson's mind.

Jackson reeled under the sudden influence of thoughts and memories that he had blocked out. Most were bad, but, as he soon realized, some of them were very good.

Moments shared with the few friends that he'd managed to make at Monster High, and the knowledge that they were worried about him even now, and moments shared with Holt. His literal other half.

Those were the moments to live for.

And he wasn't alone. He really wasn't. He had his own parents back in the real world, who were worried sick about him; he had friends like Frankie, Deuce, Clawd, and Heath, who all wanted to know that he was alright and were they to blame for his sudden estrangement?

But, most of all, he had Holt, who was ready, able, and willing to spend every single second of the rest of his life with him. Their relationship was special, and he shouldn't have just thrown it away, no matter how difficult it was.

"Please, come back to me, Jackie," Holt whispered. His face was carefully neutral, but there was enough pain in his voice to convey his deep feelings.

Jackson looked Holt in the eye, fully comprehending just how deep their relationship ran and how much of an integral part of one another they both were.

Jackson relaxed, shedding off the imitation world that he'd conjured up in his mind, trading it in for the real world. He found himself sitting on his real bed, in his real home, with Holt sitting beside him.

He assumed that Holt must have been in control of their body at that moment, since he felt distinctly light-headed, as if he were a boat that was floating aimlessly in the water, having no anchor to hold it down.

Holt smiled at him. "Welcome home, Jackie boy. Welcome back to the real world."

Jackson looked around their room, taking everything in and welcoming the sight. After locking himself into his own mind for so long, even their messy room was a sight for sore eyes.

He turned back to Holt. "This isn't going to be easy. Not for me, anyway."

He sighed and leaned against his other half, seeking support and comfort. "There's going to be a lot of things that I'll have to relearn. I need some time to readjust."

"Just remember, JJ," Holt murmured softly, bringing his hands up to rest on the normie's shoulders. "No matter what happens, you'll still have me."

Jackson's answer was more breath than words. "I know."

He fell asleep in Holt's arms, feeling safe and comfortable for the first time in a while.

Now, he knew, things were truly right.

* * *

_When you're near me, I feel like I just found me in the traces of the boy from yesterday…  
In a world that is so black and white I will take the steps to change my life  
And I won't be comin' back to here again._

_And I need your loving hand to guide me through the maze of all the things inside me  
Then I'll know that I'm alright._

The End.


	5. Alone With My Shadow

**And, in this story, Holt is either a monster or a human, depending on what you want to imagine. Jackson, on the other hand, doesn't literally exist.**

* * *

"Alone With My Shadow" rated T for mental disorders, slight domestic abuse, and suicide; 3 pages long; dark; written on December 10th, 2013 Featuring the song "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" by Green Day Holt wanders around in the dead of night, talking to himself for quite awhile before finally deciding to end it all. Holt commits suicide – you've been warned.

_I walk a lonely road / the only one that I have ever known_  
_Don't know where it goes / but it's home to me and I walk alone_  
_I walk this empty street / on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams_  
_When the city sleeps / and I'm the only one and I walk alone_

- Green Day

Holt was out on his own, wandering through the streets of New Salem in the middle of the night. He kept to the darkness and the shadows of unlit alleys between buildings.

He let the wind whip through his hair and beat on his face; he let the rain pour down upon him. Nothing really mattered to him at the moment.

Alone.

Holt sighed, his mind filled with conflicting thoughts. He was a loner by nature, being a Hyde. Hydes were always alone. They had no friends and barely had family. Holt knew that his mother only put up with him – she didn't really love him.

That was fine. Holt didn't really love her either.

But, there was that little piece of him that cried out against his natural born tendencies to shirk emotional bonds. That one piece that wanted to reach out and touch.

To love. And to be loved. The one little hopeful dream that existed in his crazed mind.

The one dream that he knew would never come to pass.

"I belong alone," the young Hyde whispered to himself, the cold wind stealing the words away just as soon as they left his lips. "I am what I am, and I was born to live a life with no one else."

And that was fine, really. No emotional baggage to deal with; he could never get hurt, never be betrayed, never have his heart broken.

He passed underneath a street light, gazing at the silhouette of himself that the light cast upon the wall. "It's just you an' me, pal."

Holt paused in front of the wall. The wind slammed him in the face, causing his hair to fly into his eyes, raindrops slapping him and dripping down his face, making it appear as if he'd been crying.

That was actually impossible, though. Hyde's didn't cry.

He raised a weathered and worn hand to the wall, pressing against it lightly, as if to intertwine his fingers between the one's of his shadow.

The Hyde only cared for and loved one person: himself.

"Well, Jackson," he murmured quietly to his shadow, calling his silhouette by a name as if it were another person. "You an' I are on our own. Mom says she's not gonna take care of us anymore, no matter what Dad says. They were fighting over the phone about it for hours! Dad's funny, y'know? He has these things called feelings… and I don't understand them."

The shadow said nothing, but that was alright. Holt wouldn't have listened even if it did speak.

Holt continued walking, searching for a good place to lay his head down for the night. He ignored that strange little voice in his head, crying out to go back home, to climb back into his safe and comfortable bed, to beg for his mother to love him.

Maybe his father would take him in? His parents had split even before he was born, and he knew it was because his mother was a Hyde. Hydes were loners, always, and they didn't care to become emotionally attached to other people. Thus, after staying a few weeks with the man who was Holt's father and becoming pregnant, Holt's mother had simply walked away, not wanting to stay tied down and not caring what her husband thought.

Holt considered the idea of going to his father's house and weaseling a place to live out of the man. A grin grew across his face; taking advantage of the old man would be fun…

… but that nagging little voice told him that it would be wrong, that he'd come to regret it later on.

The Hyde stopped in his tracks, turning to his shadow and scowling at it. "Couldn't you at least be on my side?! Huh?! Would that really kill you?!"  
The shadow looked back at him, saying nothing.

Holt sighed and looked away for a moment, absentmindedly reaching up to touch the wall were his shadow's face should have been. "No, I'm not mad at you, Jackson. I could never be mad at you. You're my only friend in the world, y'know?"

He stood in silence for a moment longer, then grinned. "I know just how I should solve my problem! Then I'll never have to deal with any of this weird emotional trash ever again!"

Holt found the tallest building in New Salem. It was the Hotel Transylvania, which was about sixteen stories high and had been built to look like an old castle from the folklore of Europe. Eagerly, he raced in, knowing just what he would do.

A man in the lobby told him that he couldn't explore the hotel without renting a room first. Holt glared at the man and ignored him, heading straight for the elevator.

When a mouthy maid got in his way, he backhanded her, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"I will do what I want to do," the Hyde spat out, climbing aboard the empty elevator car.

He looked over to his shadow on the wall, which was wavering and fading in and out of existence, due to a flickering light in the car. It almost looked at though his shadow was fidgeting nervously.

"Don't worry, Jackson," Holt spoke softly, as if to calm the silhouette. "It won't be long now."

When the elevator went up as far as it could go, Holt got out and climbed the stairs, finally reaching his destination: the roof.

He stood in the rain once again, vaguely aware of the water drops hitting his face and sliding down, caressing his cheekbones. The wind hit him as well, feeling like a punch to the face.

He stood on the edge of the hotel roof, gazing out over the city. All of New Salem was asleep, it seemed, blanketed by the darkness of night.

"This is it, Jackson," he whispered, even though he couldn't see the shadow that he knew was following him. A smile grew across his face, and he jumped.

**The End… especially for Holt.**

**…**

**Um, I just killed Holt. (O.O`) Sweatdrops.**


End file.
